A Red String: A Little Sparrow Song
by itakethewords
Summary: Set in the 'Little Sparrow' story, Soryu waits for sleep to come to him and watches Suzumi sleep. What is it about this woman that can make him go from cold mafia king to man in love? At the end of a long night, there's no place like home. Complete.


**Author's Note:** _Hello! This is the second special story for my 50th review on_ Little Sparrow _. This story is dedicated to **MikoScorus** , who has been a dedicated reader and reviewer. I appreciate her thoughtful words in her reviews and decided to gift her with this story. She wanted something with Soryu being doting in solely his point of view. I hope you love this story. It's short since it had to be set in the first 20 chapters of Little Sparrow, but it's super sweet I got the warm fuzzies writing it. I hope **MikoScorus** and all of you do, too! The first story called _ Bookworm: A Little Sparrow Song _is already up for reading pleasure._

 _If you haven't read_ Little Sparrow _, you can read this, but you won't know some references. I'd go read it either before or after (then read this again) so you can appreciate it. It is my epic story that is still ongoing and is awesome. In my opinion._

 _Please leave a review when you're done reading, let me know what you all think!_

 _ **Disclaimer** : I own characters like Suzumi, Voltage Inc owns the rest._

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 **A Red String: A Little Sparrow Song**

It was so late, it could be considered early and Soryu found himself sitting up awake in bed, unable to keep from staring at the sleeping form of Suzumi next to him. The night had been long, tensions high, and his heart had nearly stopped at least twice, but he couldn't take his eyes off her and close them for any precious rest. Instead, the residual moonlight played through the crack of the curtains and gave him a small spotlight along her face.

Her pale face was relaxed, a marked difference from the night itself. The sparse amount of freckles that crossed the bridge of her nose and along her cheeks stood out in contrast, illuminated by the natural light. Her wild curls of honey brown hair were splayed across the pillow, strands nearly reaching out as if to grab for him and bring him closer. They'd grown longer in the time since she'd come to the Tres Spades. Arriving in his suite, they'd looked haphazardly cut and in various lengths and, after her trip down to the salon in the hotel, they'd been evened out and bounced at chin length. These days, it brushed her shoulders when she wore it down and in this moment, it created a halo framing her head. Upon being tucked in to the bed, she'd immediately pushed aside the mass of sheets and comforter he'd wrapped around her and he'd chuckled. Even in sleep she'd been defiant. The pale column of her neck drew his eyes downward, uncovered by her surprisingly skimpy nightwear. A thin red cotton tank visible above the soft blankets. It was either a testament to her faith in him or a showcase of the twisted humor she'd picked up from hanging around Ota too much. He certainly didn't remember her owning nightwear like that and wondered which of the other men had gifted her more clothes. Regardless of which it really was, Soryu found himself reaching out a hand and brushing his fingertips along the hollow of her throat. A feather-light touch and she stirred, but her eyes remained closed. Not wanting to wake her, he pulled his hand away and rested it on the blankets surrounding them.

The woman lying next to him in his bed, he would have never thought all those months ago that she would be here. He remembered forbidding her from coming in, but it wasn't even day one before she'd come in for soap to take a shower. Later, she'd tended to his health as he recovered from the bullet wound he'd received in Kyoto. Since then, she'd constantly followed him in to discuss various notes she'd made in the work he'd given her or to argue about miscellaneous things. Even before she'd come into his life, he'd never brought a woman to his suite. There were gaggles in the lounge that Baba had brought up, but he'd never gone beyond sitting with those leeches in stony silence. The women he'd been with were forgettable, quick dalliances in hotels, no one worth more than the quick relief they'd provided. As the time he'd spent with Suzumi increased and he watched her personality emerge, he'd come to feel like his suite was more than a fancy hotel room. It went from a museum showroom to a place of warmth. He'd never thought it before, but the suite felt like home.

Watching her bare collarbones gently rise and fall with her quiet breaths, Soryu was struck with a bubbling, warm feeling in his chest. If he was honest with himself, it wasn't the suite that felt like home. No, he was adaptable to live anywhere whether it was his old place in Hong Kong, back in school in the outskirts of London, his condo. The Tres Spades was a convenient epicenter that had all the things he needed like a bed, food, and access to Eisuke and the man's whims. He could be in a tiny studio apartment and it wouldn't matter. The suite he claimed on the 51st floor of the Tres Spades felt like home because of the woman who waited for him every day.

The blue moonlight was replaced by a pale yellow glow. Dawn was coming and he still hadn't slept.

A woman who had her life upheaved from the normal, everyday life of the average person. She became the target of a sadistic, greedy man-boy who tried to wring the life out of her. But because of sheer stubbornness, her spark stayed lit and because of that, she wound up in his hands and he was forever grateful. She'd shown herself to have not lost her humanity, something that he admired. He'd broken men quicker and under less stressful circumstances. They'd cried for death, become animals attacking in fight or flight instinct, and even betrayed their own families. They'd taken any respect he would have held for them in those moments. The patient logic and firm humanity she carried with dignity earned his absolute respect and admiration and he couldn't keep the smile off his face as thought about these qualities. If he was honest, there was nothing more he'd like to do than rip the Soumas to shreds, but not before showing them what they'd lost and his gains.

His mind wandered from petty shows of revenge to scenarios more pure. Or, rather, impure. He could see in his mind's eye his hands drifting across her skin and he was struck with the sudden urge to see if there were more freckles elsewhere. His eyes naturally landed on the exposed flesh of her shoulders again. The red of her top caught his eye and, sticking out from the edge and standing out against her pale skin, a loose string. Unable to resist the temptation, Soryu reached out and plucked the red string, winding it around his finger, gazing down at it. It was rather short, just a few inches, but it rang like a bell in his mind and he couldn't help but chuckle. The red string of fate. He had it wrapped around his finger, connecting him to her just like, though he'd never admit it, she had him wrapped around hers. They'd barely gone beyond confessing feelings for one another, but he was too far gone.

He was well aware Suzumi wasn't the housewife type. She wouldn't clean the house, cook meals, and do laundry with a smile and not expect help. No, she could keep after herself and even him, but she was a terrible cook. She seemed to have a catalog of five thing she could possibly make and they were a random mix of the most bizarre things. Cookies, hamburger steak, miso soup, onigiri, and chocolate ganache. Everything else usually ended up overcooked or completely burnt. The few times she'd tried cooking for him, they'd been limited to those few times and no further. He insisted on room service or take out. She'd made cookies a few times for Samejima and Inui as thanks for escorting her and they seemed happy with that as compensation. He didn't need a housewife, he was more than fine with her predisposition in that matter. No, he needed a partner. Someone to stand next to him for strength or behind him to watch for what he couldn't see. He could easily have that in Suzumi. She had been battered and bruised, but she was still made of diamonds and steel. A weaker person, man or woman, would have bent and snapped like thin strings of copper and twine.

As he let his mind wander, Soryu could finally feel sleep closing in on him. His eyes heavy, he let out a soft yawn and slid back into the sheets. Almost as if upon instinct, his body curled around Suzumi's, bringing her close to his own. She fit perfectly, her curves meeting his planes. And in her sleep, she turned, facing him, tucking her face against his chest and curling as close as possible to his warmth. Despite the injured wrist held close to her chest, Soryu could see the look of contentment on her features and smiled once more. Draping his arm on her waist, he took in the warmth radiating from her small body. A sigh escaped her lips and the puff of breath on his chest and he just pulled her a little closer. He wanted to think it was because she too had found home, there in his arms.

Consciousness fading, the only things around him he could truly discern: the golden glow of the sunrise dancing across his bed, the warmth radiating from the woman in his arms, and the deep sitting contentment of his own that filled his heart. Just before exhaustion took him, he could hear one last exhale from Suzumi, unconscious words tumbling from her lips.

"Soryu…"

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 **A/N:** _Thanks again! Visit me over on_ Little Sparrow _or on tumblr as_ velvetcovered-brick _._


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